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“Ava?”
She stills at the low husk of my voice, turning toward me. The distress and pain etched all over her beautiful face cripples me, brings my reality crashing back. I’m on my knees, The Manor, Sarah, the whip, my sins. And then Ava releases a pained sob, and it kicks some life into me. My legs are like jelly as I try to stand, reaching for thin air for support, my mind still partly fogged. I shake my head harshly, seeing beads of sweat fly off me.
“Ava?” I finally convince my legs to play ball and stand. Staggering, swaying, disorientated. Fuck, I feel more pissed than any amount of vodka could achieve.
Ava can’t be here. She can’t. I shake my head again, closing my eyes, hoping that when I open them, we’re not here. We’re in bed. Cuddled up. Loving. I open my eyes, and my heart splits. She’s on her knees, sobbing, looking at me with nothing but pure agony gushing from her dark eyes.
“Jesus, no.” I go to her but get pulled back, and the feeling is like one of the awful dreams I have, when I am reaching for her, seeing her, but I can’t get to her. “Get the fuck off me!” I shove Sarah away. “Ava, baby.” I go to her, joining her on the floor, scanning every broken piece of her. “What are you doing here?” I pull her face to mine and recoil when she looks at me. Pain. It’s intensifying the closer I get, the more I look.
She pushes me away, doesn’t want me to touch her.
“Ava, please.”
She gets up and barges past John, and I’m quickly following. I can’t feel my legs, but they’re moving fast. She disappears into the ladies’ bathroom, and I steam in after her, John in tow.
The sound that greets me punches a hole in my gut.
Retches.
She’s being sick.
I’ve made her physically sick. That’s how disgusted she is by me.
“Ava!” I yell, banging on the door. I should be gently coaxing her from the cubicle, but my fear is growing by the second. “Ava! Open the door. Please.” I let my head meet the wood, my palms and chest pressed into it, like it makes me that little bit closer to her. “Ava, please. Open the door.”
Nothing.
“Who let her in?” I don’t mean to punch the door in anger. “Fuck! Who the fucking hell let her in?”
“I didn’t let her in,” John says, sounding mystified. “I would never have let her in.” His big palm meets my shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into a piece of flesh that isn’t welted. I don’t need to look at his face to know he’s being honest.
We both look toward the door when Kate flies in, her pretty face looking back and forth between us. “What’s going on?” she asks. Her eyes widen. “Fuck, Jesse, what the hell happened to your back?”
“Nothing,” I snap. My fucking back is the least of my worries right now.Fuck.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Where’s Ava? What the hell is going on? Ava?”
“She’s in there. She won’t come out. Please, Kate, get her out.” I bang the door again for no purpose at all. She’s not coming out while I’m here. I know that.
“Hey,” Kate snaps, forcing me back from the door, looking up and down my pathetic form. “Tell me why she’s locked in there and why you’re out here bleeding all over the place?”
I look away, so fucking ashamed. “Ava walked in on something she shouldn’t have seen.” I’m vague. “She’s freaked out. I need to see her.”
“If you’ve fucked her over, Jesse,” she seethes. “Ava?”
“It’s not like that.” My hands find my hair and yank. What the fuck have I done?
“Well, what is it like then? She’s in there throwing up. Ava?” Kate starts a gentler tapping of the door. “Ava, come on. Open the door.”
“Ava!” I yell.
“Jesse, just go.”
I snort my repulsion. “No.” So she can walk out of my manor and never return?
Kate shoves me back, resorting to brute force, hissing words at me I’m struggling to hear, and John starts pulling at my arm, his rumble of my name softer than usual, but there’s an edge ofdon’t fuck with mein his tone. I look at the door again. It’s not opening while I’m in here.
“Let’s get you sorted out, you stupid motherfucker.”
